


Second Beginning

by Mixk



Series: The Time Traveler's Husband [1]
Category: The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger, X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixk/pseuds/Mixk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 25-year-old Charles meets 28-year-old Logan at NYU in 1991, Logan has never seen Charles before, although Charles has known Logan most of his life.<br/>This is the extraordinary love story of Logan and Charles, who met when Charles was six and Logan was thirthy-six, and were married when Charles was twenty-eight and Logan thirty-one. Impossible but true, because Logan suffers from a rare condition that later comes to be known as Chrono-Impairment, where his genetic clock periodically resets and he finds himself pulled suddenly into his past or future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Beginning

_Friday, October 25th, 1991 (Logan is 28, Charles is 25)_

**Charles** : The hall of the building where I come to meet Raven—my dear little sister—is warm when I step inside, escaping the chill autumn weather that’s been settling. I’m weary from a long day of classes and my legs are in need of a good stretch after sitting for so long . Today, Raven’s first week at NYU ends, and we’ve decided to go out to celebrate. I take the opportunity to wander around this building I have never entered before while I wait for her. Most of the history department is located here, as are most of the classes Raven’s taking, and I find myself looking at paintings and the bits of history attached to them. It feels like walking through a museum, which is quite a nice way to pass the time.

On the first floor, I walk my way through a crowd of students in a large and long hallway that has glass walls through which I can see Washington Square. They’re all exiting what I assume is a class room, and I try to spot Raven’s blonde head among them. I check my watch, and realize her class doesn’t end before another thirty minutes. I’m looking up from watching a squirrel climb up a tree when I see him stepping out of the very same room the students came from. I’m close to shouting his name when my eyes land on his tall and strong frame, dressed in a very professional attire that I’ve always tried to imagine him in. He’s wearing a dark red button-down underneath a black vest, plain black slacks, and a pair of rimmed glasses. He looks better than all the fantasies my mind could have conjured. My heart is trying to leap out of my chest as my wobbly legs take me to him, and it’s so ridiculous because I’ve seen this man so many times in the course of my life now. This is different, however. This is Logan, in his present. It has to be. I can’t remember how often I have prayed for this moment to finally come, and now that it has, I have no idea what to say.

He takes notice of me when I step close to him, and he gives me a weird look. I can’t bring myself to care, as I am too ecstatic, repressing the urge to throw my arms around him.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks.

“Logan,” I breathe out, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m sorry, have we met before? I don’t…” he trails off, eyes wandering around us, and I find myself following his gaze. Most of the students have already cleared the floor.

“I’m Charles Xavier,” I start to explain. “I knew you when I was but a young boy…”

I start fumbling, my voice is shaky at best, but I can’t get a better hold of myself. Because standing before me is the man I’ve been in love with for the better part of my life, and he doesn’t know me. Everything has yet to happen for him, while it has already started so many years ago already for me. A chuckle escapes my lips at the weirdness of this situation, and I hide my face in my hand.

“God, this must sound so weird to you,” I say as I look up to meet his beautiful eyes. Billions of memories flash through my head, and all my knowledge of Logan overwhelms me. It’s the youngest I’ve ever seen him, with just a little bit of scruff on his face that my hand is itching to stroke. “Just know this, I’m not one of your students, and I never was. I’m a grad student in genetics at Columbia.”

“Okay…?” He says, looking perplexed and fearful. I really must sound like a madman to him.

“Will you please have coffee with me sometime? Or dinner? It will be much simpler for me to explain,” I say, dreading his answer. This Logan who doesn’t know me surely has to love me in some weird echo of the future or the past, where he has fallen for me.

To my greatest relief, he says yes and agrees to meet me tomorrow for lunch, and I feel so light I forget about Raven in the moment and leave the building. After having bottled up everything I felt inside in the few minutes I spent with Logan, my emotions break free once I step outside. I run and jump across Washington Square park, crying out my joy.

Today is the day our present lives finally start.

 **Logan** : I bid goodbye to my last students of the day with a nod and a smile, glad to finally welcome the weekend. This is my second year teaching as a full fledged professor, and I like to think I’m coming into my own. The students seem to like the classes enough, I never notice more than half of them drifting off at once. Not that I would let it affect me anyway, they’re the ones paying for the class, after all.

There’s always the risk that I might disappear in the middle of a class—that would be a hard one to explain—but I take my precautions. I’ve learned some relaxation techniques, and so far, they seem to work well enough, to an extent. Thankfully, the few times I did get pulled from the present happened outside of class. Some classes were cancelled because, well, I didn’t show.

I gather my things and check that the lecture hall is empty before I lock behind myself. I take a look at the weather outside, wondering whether I’m going to regret not bringing an umbrella with me today. It’s still cloudy, but I should be safe. I have barely walked a few steps when a handsome man approaches me, and I’m struck by the intense blue eyes fixed on me. He looks like a student, from his youthful face to his attire, a messenger bag hanging by his side. He looks more elegant than most students, however, and I can’t help but notice the eyes staring at me seem carry more wisdom than this man’s looks led me to believe.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, in case this is one of my students, though none of my students have ever looked at my like I was their very own savior.

“Logan,” he says my name, taking me aback, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

“I’m sorry, have we met before? I don’t...”

I don’t remember ever meeting this man, and the way he looks at me makes me think he and I at some point in time have (had?) an amazing thing together. I just don’t remember it, and the embarrassment of being face to face with a forgotten one night stand starts to creep up on me. I check the hallway, worried to have such a conversation with an audience.

“I’m Charles Xavier,” he says. “I knew you when I was but a young boy…”

Now I’m at a complete loss for words. I have no memory of him, in recent or older times. The rest of the conversation passes like a blur, Charles asks me out—after assuring me he’s no student of mine. I say yes, stunned. I watch this Charles _skipping_ away from me, and when I peer through the window of my office, I see him whooping and jumping around in Washington Square. As I walk out of the building, the realization that a very fortunate chunk of my future has just found me in the present hits me, and I can’t help but laugh.

When I get home, the exhaustion of the day falls on me like a ton of bricks. I go prepare myself a bath, and then reheat some leftover Chinese take-outs from last night. I can’t help thinking about Charles all night, about the nature of our relationship. He obviously seemed to know me, and not just a little. He was positively trembling with excitement when he saw me earlier today, and there aren’t many explanations for his behaviour. The questions become so overbearing I end up cleaning up my apartment, just in case I get lucky tomorrow.

_The day after:_

**Logan** : I wake up late, a result of my short nights catching up with me. I rush to wash up before going to meet Charles for lunch. I try to make myself look as decent as possible, considering I don’t have enough time to shave. I can’t apply my usual date routine, too short on time, so I put on a simple white shirt and a light sweater with a pair of dark jeans. I wonder what clothes Charles has seen future me wear, for I’m obviously not arriving from my future into her past with my own outfits. Dismissing my musings, I grab my trench coat and am out the door.

On my way to the diner we agreed to meet at, I pass by a florist, and hesitate getting something for Charles. Could I have I read the situation wrong? I ask myself. I decide against going empty-handed in the end, and pick up a small assortment. Charles is already sitting in a booth when I get there, absorbed in a book, a strawberry milkshake half drunk in front of him. Eerily, he seems to sense my presence and waves at me, same brilliant smile as yesterday.

“Hello, Logan.”

“Hi,” I say, feeling a bit awkward as I hand him the flowers. “For you.”

“Thank you,” Charles says, lighting up as he takes the bouquet. One would think I’ve given him the world, and my confusion must show because he adds, “You’ve never given me flowers before.”

I take a seat opposite Charles, my skin tingling with excitement. This man knows me, and I’m dying to know to what extent. All the questions I’ve cumulated last night come rushing back.

“Tell me,” I ask him, because I can’t wait anymore.

“Tell you what?”

“Everything,” I say. “I mean, you do understand why I don’t know you, right? Which, by the way, I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t be,” Charles presses, then lowers his voice. “I’m perfectly aware that I’m just a stranger to you at the moment. That’s because none of it has happened yet for you. Me? Well, I’ve known you for a long time.”

“How long?” I can’t help asking, because I am curious how far back this man has been meeting with my future self.

“Hmm...About nineteen years, now. I was six when I met you for the first time.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath. Nineteen years.  Nineteen fucking years, this man has known me. I can barely believe it. Never have I connected with anyone in any of my previous...trips. “How often exactly have you seen me? A few times?”

He pulls a little moleskine notebook from his bag then, and hands it to me. The black leather is well worn, and when I open it to look inside, I’m struck with awe. There’s a list of dates that goes on for several pages.

“The last time you visited me, you told me to bring the next time we met,” Charles explains.

“Is this...?”

“All the times you came to see me, yes,” Charles confirms. I look at the first date, August 3rd, 1972; and the last, a few pages later, May 24th, 1989. I count quickly, and come up with over 200 dates, all written carefully and neatly in black ink. In the future, I will travel back in time 212 times to a younger Charles. It takes a few seconds for me to process. A waitress comes to take our orders, burgers for us both, and to my surprise, Charles orders a plate of onion rings in lieu of fries, something I always do. It sounds stupid, to get overwhelmed over a detail like that, but there’s no denying that Charles does know me.

“You wrote down all the dates?” I ask, once our orders are taken, and our iced waters are put on the table.

“I wrote them down while you recited them, actually,” Charles says, a soft smile on his face. “You told me you memorized the list from this journal, which is a weird time paradox, now that I think about it.”

“And these are all accurate?”

“Yeah. It made my life easier, knowing when you would come. I’d have time to leave clothes for you in the Clearing.”

“The Clearing?”

“At my parents’ place, beyond the garden, there’s a forest with a beautiful clearing where I used to go to play by myself when I was little, you can’t see it from the mansion, it’s hidden by tall oak-trees. That’s where I met you for the first time.”

“Buck naked and puking my guts out, I assume,” I say with a snort, imagining the scene with horror in my mind. How did Charles even survive the trauma, I wonder?

“Actually, you seemed pretty composed,” Charles says. “That first time, you didn’t stay for long anyway. I just remember you called my name, then vanished, and I remember being impressed at the time. I reckon the first time for you was around 1975, I was eleven at the time. You kept saying ‘Holy shit,’ while staring at me. You were pretty freaked out about being naked around me.”

“No shit,” I chuckle, because _of course_ I’m going to freak out about being naked around a Goddamn kid. I never liked that aspect of time traveling, and now I have reason to hate it even more. Fuck. Charles just grins mischievously at me, and I’m just amazed by the man.

“Anyway, after the first few times, I accepted the fact that this big naked man from the future would magically appear in the Clearing from time to time, demanding clothes,” Charles says, shaking his head with a fond expression. “And food.”

“What’s so funny?”

“I made you some weird meals and snacks over the years,” Charles says, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “I think you ate everything because you were so hungry and didn’t want to upset me. I was just trying to impress you at the time.”

“How old was I?” I ask, and wait for the answer while our plates are set on the table. I take an onion ring and dip in ketchup.

“I think the oldest I’ve seen you was around forty something, but that’s just my guess, you never told me how old you actually were. How old are you now?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You look very young to me now,” Charles says. “I think the youngest I saw you was maybe thirty something? The last few years, you were mostly in your forties. But like I said, that’s only my guess, it’s hard to say when you’re a kid, everyone looks super old past a certain age.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say and we take a little break to eat, which I’m thankful for because I’m actually famished. All the while, Charles keeps looking at me, and I’ve never seen anyone so gleeful to be in my company. When I’m done with my burger, Charles has barely eaten half of his.

 

“So, what did we do, in this clearing?” I resume my questions, my curiosity far from being satisfied.

“Many things. We played games, chess. You helped me a lot with my homework; you were a really good tutor. I managed to get you to admit you were a teacher after a while. I didn’t know you were actually a college professor until yesterday.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No. You didn’t want me to find out too much about the future. You made it really hard for me to find you in the present, too. I still don’t know your last name, by the way,” Charles prompts.

“It’s Howlett,” I reply, and take another onion ring, which Charles hasn’t touched at all. I wonder if he’s just letting me have all of them. “My first name’s James, actually. Logan’s my middle name.”

“Huh. You don’t like James?”

“I don’t mind it, but I do prefer Logan, so I go by that with those closest to me,” I say. That’s really what ticked me off about Charles. We had to be pretty close for him to use my middle name. It always sounded better to me, somehow. I don’t think I look like a James at all, and I share this with Charles.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” he says with a soft smile. “Anyway, we mostly talked when we hung out in the Clearing. I asked you a lot of questions about the future, I thought you had a mission or something, coming back to see me. You stumbled into my life at the peak of my sci-fi phase, to be fair. Later, as I grew up and figured out I was gay, I came to realize I found you really, _really_ attractive—although some part of me always knew, I think. If anything, you made me realize it. I tried to seduce you into making love to me, but you never would. I didn’t want anyone but you, so I had a pretty serious case of blue balls in my teenage years.”

“Good to know,” I say. The mere thought of sleeping with someone more than half my age disturbs me.  “I mean, I’m sorry about you not getting any, but it’s a good thing you didn’t sleep with me then.”

“I think you thought you were going to ruin my innocence or something, which I thought was ridiculous. In a lot of ways, you were very paternal to me.”

“Well, I don’t think I like to be thought as paternal right now,” I confess, and our eyes meet. Charles gives me a positively lewd grin, and just like that, a silent agreement is passed between us. God but Charles is gorgeous, I find myself thinking, as I stare at him.

“What about winter? I imagine we didn’t stay out in the Clearing, I know I don’t like hanging out naked when it’s freezing out. A lot of these dates are in winter,” I say as I go back through the list. Then what Charles told me hits me back. “Wait, where is it your parents lived? You mentioned a _mansion_?”

“We have a mansion in Westchester, yes,” Charles replies, and my mind goes blank for a second. A mansion.  Charles takes the last bite of his burger before continuing, “I used to smuggle you in one of the guest rooms, and it worked pretty well, considering we rarely had guests stay over. I had to distract George whenever he went to the guest aisle to clean up so you could go to another room, and convince Pauline there was nothing weird about me asking for so much more food than usual.”

“George? Pauline?”

“George was our butler, and Pauline our cook,” Charles explains.

“Great, your family has servants; this sounds a little out of my league,” I say as another bomb drops on me. The expression written over Charles’s face is fond, and he shakes his head at me as though he’s used to me saying silly things. This first date is by far the most interesting one I’ve had in my life. “What about your parents? Have I ever met them?”

“They were busy most of the time during the day, I don’t remember spending a lot of time with them outside of dinner time,” Charles says, and there’s a certain kind of sadness in his voice that doesn’t sit well with me. I recognize the absent look in his eyes all too well. I’ll have to inquire about it more, later. “So, no, you never met them, at least as far as I know. My sister thought you were my imaginary friend, and she’s only really known the truth for a couple of years. I only introduced you to my grandmother, not long before she died. She was the first person I came out to, and she was the only one I told about you. She knew we were going to get married some day, and so she wanted to meet you.”

The water I was drinking goes down the wrong way, and I cough loudly as my mind processes Charles’s last words.

“Are we going to get married?” I ask, livid. You don’t find out you get married to the person you’ve only met a day ago every day. No one does, really.

“I should hope so,” Charles says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to say on a first date. “You kept telling me that whenever you were from, you were married to me. You used that to keep my sexual advances at bay.”

I can’t breathe. I feel like I just got punched in my diaphragm, and my breathing is blocked. This is all too much, and I regret being so curious. Same-sex marriage isn’t even legal, as far as I know. Here is Charles, though, telling me that someday, we will be married. I close my eyes and take deep, slow breaths, willing my heart to quiet down. I don’t want to lose my grip on the present, now would be the worst time to do it.

“Logan? Are you okay?” Charles’s voice is closer, and when I open my eyes, I find he’s moved to sit beside me. He takes my hand in his, and the gesture is comforting.

“I’m so sorry, Logan. I’m just not used to this, to you not knowing everything. I told myself earlier to go slow on you, but I lost myself in the moment. Being here with you, it feels so much like before that I thought I was with the Logan I’m in love with.”

“Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Can we back up for a second? Can we pretend this is a normal first date between two normal people?” I beg, because, while Charles is lovely, I’m not sure I’m ready to get down on one knee after just one date. What scares me the most is that Charles looks like he would say yes on the spot if I did, judging from the way he stares at me.

“Okay,” he says, and slides back into the booth across the table. He straightens his back, and puts on a neutral face, looking at me with glassy eyes. It’s so ridiculous I can’t refrain myself from laughing, and the mask on Charles’s face breaks as well. Our eyes meet then, and I can tell we’re going to be fine.

“Okay,” I say, and take another sip of water. “Um, so, tell me more about yourself. Any hobbies? Weird kinks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Charles says, waggling his eyebrows at me. “Find out for yourself.”

“Right, now wouldn’t be appropriate, don’t you think?” I retort as I lean back against the booth, and cross my arms over my chest. “All right then, you said you were a grad students at Columbia?”

“Yes, in genetics. I’m working on my thesis right now, actually,” Charles replies, and finishes his milkshake. “And I assume you teach history?”

“That would be correct, mostly American history. Tell me about your family?” I ask tentatively, having guessed this could be a touchy subject for Charles.

“All right. I grew up in Westchester, at the mansion, which is remote from the rest of the town. We come from old money that was passed down from way back. My father was Brian Xavier, he was a nuclear scientist, and my mother is Sharon Xavier—”

“Oh, the painter,” I say, and immediately apologize for interrupting Charles. I wouldn’t say I’m an art connoisseur, but I do enjoy it, and I have been to a few galleries. Sharon Xavier’s work has caught my eye, for most of her paintings depict scenery. I could never afford any of the work displayed, so I mostly just go to admire the art pieces.  

“You know her work?” Charles sounds surprised, but delighted too, and I nod in response. “Yes, she does paint in her free time, but I never thought you’d know her, she’s not that well recognized. Her main occupation is actually as an English teacher.”

“What about your siblings? You mentioned a sister?”

“I have one sister, Raven, who’s actually taking history as her major at NYU, so you might see her. She’s a freshman. The first few years, when you came to see me, she was too young to remember or care that I spent a lot of my time with you. But as she grew up, she actually wanted to spend more time with me. I think you felt guilty about that.”

“Well, of course I would, I envy people who have siblings, even if they don’t get along,” I reply.

“You’re an only child?”

“I thought you knew everything about me?” I counter, surprised.

“I know everything and nothing, to be honest. I already know how you look naked—which, by the way, is a glorious sight—but I didn’t know your last name until a few minutes ago. I knew you lived in New York. I know nothing about your family except that your parents died in a car crash when you were seven. You’re very well read, and you’re fluent in French and Cantonese, which I still think is an intriguing choice of languages. Like I said, you didn’t give away anything that could help me find you in the present. You said it would just happen when it was supposed to happen; and so here we are.”

“Here we are,” I say, and a moment of silence falls between us, which gives me the time to take in everything Charles has just said. He does know a lot about me, but he doesn’t know everything. There’s still room for us both to get to know each other, and the thought makes me feel better. I’m glad my future self didn’t give everything away, there would be no fun in dating someone who already knows everything about you. The check comes at our table not long after, and I win the battle over who gets to pay, handing my credit card to the waitress first. I have finished eating for quite some time now, and have moved on to other interests.

“You know I’m technically richer than you, right?” Charles tells me when we get out of the diner and onto 51st street.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to remind me of this a lot in the future?”

“That, Logan, is because you’re getting to know me,” Charles says, and he sounds absolutely thrilled. “So…where do you live?”

Damn. I’ve got to give it to Charles, he doesn’t beat around the bush. I find that I like that a lot about him.

“A few blocks from here, I live on 11th avenue, and my place would probably seem tiny to you, considering you’ve lived in a mansion,” I say. “You?”

“I live on Riverside Boulevard, but with my sister. I never bring anyone over, so she would pounce on you as soon as you step over the threshold of our flat.”

“All right then, my place it is,” I concede, though it’s not much of a bother to me. I did think of this possibility last night, after all.

We start walking west. I can sense Charles fidgeting beside me, and taking the cue, I grab hold of his hand and don’t let go. He looks up at me, hopeful and elated, and I proceed to intertwine our fingers together.

“This is really nice,” he says, and he seems almost…shy. It’s an adorable look on him, actually. “To finally be able to just be with you, out in the real world.”

We walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way to my place, and for a moment I can almost fool my brain into thinking this is an ordinary date, with a cute guy I’ve met yesterday at work, and not my future husband. Future husband. Yep, still awkward and difficult to process. When we get to my apartment building, I notice Bianca has taken over the afternoon shift, and after we exchange greetings, she gives me an inquisitive look that Charles can’t see. She mouths a very exaggerated ‘Nice one, James’ with a thumbs up. She will try to interrogate me later, I’m sure. For a concierge, she’s come to be a good friend to me over the years, with her no-nonsense attitude and maternal pieces of advice. It reminds me that I have to call aunt Diane soon, it’s been awhile—which she will no doubt scold me for. I follow Charles into the elevator, and the ride up to the 5th floor is silent with anticipation.

“Welcome to my humble home,” I announce as I open the door to my apartment, letting Charles in. My place is fairly spacious for one person, with one small square living room, a narrow kitchen, and a separate bedroom with its attached bathroom. I put down my keys on the table by the entry and take off my shoes. “Let me take your coat.”

Charles thanks me, and I let him wander through the place while I put our coats away. I walk into the kitchen and take a look in the fridge for drinks. I only have half a six-pack left, and a bottle of soda water. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good,” Charles says, and I have no idea what we’re going to do, with the whole afternoon ahead of us. My mind does provide a couple of suggestions as my gaze lingers on Charles’s behind.

“You have a lovely place, Logan,” Charles’s voice brings me out of my lustful haze. He’s moved to the living room, and I see him looking at one of my bookshelves, where I’ve got some framed pictures displayed. He grabs one and studies it for a moment, before he shows it to me.

“Your parents?”

“Yeah,” I reply as I walk over to him. I usually don’t like to talk about them, but there’s no pity in Charles’s gaze when he looks at the picture. It’s one of the few that I have taken with me, a picture of them lying on bright green grass, laughing and facing each other. It’s my favorite picture of them, taken not long after they’d met.

“They look so happy,” Charles comments, and there’s a serene glow on his face that makes my heart flutter. He puts the frame back on the shelf, moving on to the next one, a family picture that was taken a couple of years before the car accident. Charles takes the frame with him and goes to sit on the couch, where I join him. He scoots close to me, and I let myself drape an arm around his shoulders. Our bodies fit together naturally, and I try to refrain from questioning this too much. I let myself enjoy the moment instead, and appreciate how good Charles’s warm body feels against me. It has been a while since I last invited anyone back to my place, I realize.

“Oh my God, is that you?” Charles asks, pointing at five-year-old me, sitting on my father’s lap.

“Yeah. It was at my grandparents’ 50th anniversary,” I tell him, recalling the events of that day as I continue, “This was taken in their backyard. Here they are, with a few of their siblings. That’s my mother’s younger brother and his wife. They raised me, after...the accident.”

I point at my aunt Diane and uncle Kyle, who are standing next to my parents on the picture, looking happier than I’ve seen them since they adopted me. The bittersweet pang in my chest manifests again as I look at my parents’ faces, my mother looking serene and happy while my father looks at the camera with pride. “They didn’t want kids of their own, but they took me in without hesitating.”

“Do you have any cousins?”

“None that I know of,” I reply. “I would have loved having cousins around, but my aunt Diane always kept telling me I was plenty enough for them.”

“I don't mean to be presumptuous, but did you learn Cantonese thanks to her?"

"I did. I learned a lot from her mother. She lived with us, and her English wasn't too good, so aunt Diane gave me the basics to communicate with her, and I then picked up the rest."

I feel my lips curving up at the thought of Diane's mother, whom I've adopted as my own grandmother, and vice versa. Diane's reluctance to have kids of her own has forever been a sore subject between mother and daughter, which was appeased by my presence. I was the grandson Diane’s mother never had.

"One mystery solved," Charles says, radiant. I can’t help but return his infectious smile.

“I think they would love you,” I blurt out of nowhere, caught in a moment of sentimentality only my family can bring out of me. I can't remember ever taking a boyfriend home to meet the family.

“I can’t wait to meet them one day.”

 **Charles** : I feel like I’m in a dream, but the excitement running through my body is proof that I’m wide awake and alert. For years I have pictured these moments with Logan, when I would no longer be in his presence on borrowed time. His trips back to his present would always leave me bereft and frustrated.

I shake the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter now that I have Logan all to myself, in both our presents, for the rest of our lives. I stand to go put the frame I took back to its place on one of Logan’s many bookshelves. His apartment is full of books, of all kinds, and it’s a wonder to look at. I feel at home, here, with Logan. My gaze stops on another framed picture, this one of a younger Logan in his graduation robe with his aunt and uncle. He looks impossibly beautiful, and I feel like I’m falling in love all over again.

“Charles? You ok?”

I turn around to face Logan, looking worried as he approaches. His large hands cups my cheek, thumb brushing a tear I didn’t realize I had shed.

“Yes,” I reply. “I just can’t believe you’re actually here. You know how you can wait for something for so long, yet still be unprepared when it finally comes?”

Logan nods, his body now only a couple of inches from mine, and both of his hands framing my face. I meet his eyes, breath hitching as he leans close and captures my lips. It’s familiar and new all at once, the feel of Logan’s lips, the way he kisses—gentle and possessive. It’s a slow and tender kiss, an introduction in more ways than one. I pull Logan close, putting my arms around his back, desperate to feel him again, after so many years apart.

“Charles, wait—”

Logan pulls away, breaking me out of my lustful haze, his hands warm on my neck.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, taking a step back. “I usually don’t go that fast. I’d like to do this properly, and get to know you better before we move on to…other things.”

He looks so bashful and flustered I can’t even feel disappointed by the abrupt stop to our kiss. I have to admit I am positively horny, but I do agree with Logan, naturally. I want things to be perfect. I don’t think I can stay here any longer without resisting the urge to jump Logan’s bones, so I make the only reasonable decision I can make.

“You’re right. I think I should go,” I say, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

“You don’t have to,” Logan starts protesting, and I stop him with my finger on his lips.

“I know, but let’s do this like normal people, like you said. Let’s go on dates, get to know each other better. You’ve made me fall in love with you over the past few years. Now it’s my turn.”

Logan lets out the cute chuckle I recognize and love, which gives me even more hope for our future.

“All right, Charles, but on one condition,” he says.

“Anything, Logan,” I say, because at this point, I’d my rip my beating heart out of my chest for him if he asked me to.

“Next time, I pay for our date, even if you bring us to a fancy restaurant that’s way out of my league.”

It’s such a Logan thing to say I can’t help but laugh, and I give in the temptation to kiss him again, because I can, and because it’s the only thing I ever want to do for the rest of my life. I’m grinning like a fool once I can finally let go of his lips, already excited for our next date.

“It’s a deal,” I say giving him one last kiss to make it official.

**Author's Note:**

> After almost a year, I've finally finished the first part of this AU. To be continued. Maybe.


End file.
